


Sessions

by angelofthetrench



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthetrench/pseuds/angelofthetrench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Therapist AU. Rick is a young, troubled teen, and Morty is his therapist. Inspired by the play 4.48 Psychosis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Session I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very experimental, and personal, work for me. Right away I want to warn you guys that this fic will deal with depression, suicide, mental illness, etc. In this first chapter there it nothing too graphic, but please be careful.  
> If you like what you see feel free to come sin with me on tumblr, I'm wubbalubbabullshit.

_“I have resigned myself to death this year. Some will call this self-indulgence (they are lucky not to know its truth). Some will know the simple fact of pain. This is becoming my normality.”_

\- 4.48 Psychosis  

 

* * *

 

 

“I-it’s nice to meet you, R-Rick.”

 

Morty was never nervous when he met a new patient, though he hated that his stutter made it seem otherwise. Rick Sanchez lay on the couch across from him, his hands behind his head. He had walked into the office and settled there without a word.

 

“Um, ok, I’m Dr. Smith. B-but feel free to call me Morty.”

 

Silence. The doctor scribbled down a note.

 

“W-would you mind telling me why you’re here, Rick?”

 

Silence.

 

Rick couldn’t have been any older than sixteen, he was small for his age, lean, with large hands that suggested he would be coming into a growth spurt soon. Dressed in dark jeans and a darker shirt, with a leather bracelet around his wrist, the youth seemed not to care about his appearance. His hair was a mess and there were bags under his eyes that further proved this assumption. Morty noted it all, it was the only thing he had to go on.

 

“W-well it’s fine if you don’t want to talk. Do you mind if I do?”  
  


Silence.

 

“You checked on your sheet that you…Um, that you’re depressed, apathetic, y-you aren’t eating regularly, y-you’re using drugs and alcohol, you’re experiencing insomnia and hypersexuality, you’re shop lifting, and you haven’t been attending school.”

 

Morty flipped through the rest of the papers, his brow drawing together in thought.

 

“B-but you didn’t fill out any of the specifics. You j-just checked the boxes.”

 

Silence.

 

Rick was going to be another one of _those_ cases. The people that came in and just sat. As far as Morty knew Rick had come of his own accord, he had been alone in the waiting room while filling out the papers. There had been no parents on either side of him making sure he didn’t bolt, no one forcing him to stay. So why was he wasting his own time?

 

“Well, we have about…um, forty more minutes. Anything you would care to talk about?”

 

Silence. 


	2. Session II

_“I had a night in which everything was revealed to me. How can I speak again?”_

\- 4.48 Psychosis  

 

* * *

 

 

The smell of booze followed the teenager like a cloud, and Morty felt his nose scrunch in protest.

  
“Hello Rick, it’s good to see you back.”

 

“D-don’t- _ERRUP_ -don’t lie to me, doc,”

  
“I-I’m not lying. After our last session I didn’t think I’d see you again, so I-I’m glad you decided to come back.”

  
The teenager grumbled, plopping down on the couch, his arms defiantly crossed. 

  
“I-I’m also glad you hear you talking,”

  
The teen glared at Morty, and the doctor was worried he might have misspoken.

 

“Woooow. Rude.”  
  


“W-well I-I was worried, Rick. I-I mean in order for us to make any progress, you–w-we need to talk.”  
  


Morty nervously tapped his pen against his clip board.

 

Silence.

 

“Y-you’re fucking right, doc.”  

 

The teenager said at last, and Morty felt his whole body relax.

 

“A-alright, you got me talking, so g-go on, doc, shr- _ERRUP_ -shrink my head. Tell me why I’m so– why I’m such a goddamn fuck up.”

 

“Y-you’re not a fuck up, Rick. You’re just sick. And I’m not going to be able to tell you in one session what the root of your illness is. But I can help you deal with it. Offer you strategies. C-can I ask you why you decided to drink before today’s session?”

 

“Because I wanted a goddamn drink.”  
  


Silence.

 

“O-ok. Well would you be willing to tell me why you d-didn’t speak during our last session?”  
  


The minutes passed, and Morty began to worry that they would be spending another fifty-five minutes in an awkward silence.

 

“I mean,  j-jeez,  you wasted a lot of your own time.”

 

Silence. Morty was about to give up.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you, that you, you didn’t–that you were chill.”  
  


The teenager said at last and Morty smiled, relieved.

 

“S-so did I pass? Am I… chill?”  
  


“I’m fucking here, aren’t I doc?”

 

The smile faded from Morty’s lips at the teenager’s tone. The kid’s words had an edge to them, like a knife. But the boy seemed to realize how cruel he sounded, and he shifted awkwardly in his seat.

 

“Duh you passed,” 

  
The words were nothing but a mumble, Morty was hardly able to hear them, but he was glad to see some kindness coming from the drunken boy, and he couldn’t help but note the way the youth blushed.

 

“So then, could y-you tell me a little more about why you didn’t speak? I mean, just making sure I was, ah, ‘chill’ couldn’t be the only reason?”

 

Silence. Morty felt like we was walking on glass with every word.  

  
“Sometimes I just–just wonder, w-why talk, ya know? Why fucking bother with it–”

 

Rick shifted again, and his hand clenched as if trying to grasp something he didn’t have. Silence.

 

“A few nights ago I just thought…everything in the mind is known. T-that’s fucking redundant, but you get it. Or maybe you don’t—I don’t give a shit. But when y-you speak: nothing. Things never come out right, not the way you mean for them too. Words are just a bunch of shit, doc, a bunch of nonsense. I-It’s all- _ERRUUP_ -aaallll false. Just sounds made by vocal cords slapping together, they go into the ear and get, get gobbled—eaten up by the brain and forgotten. They don’t stick, doc, they don’t stay, not like, not like thoughts and ideas.”

  
Morty was nodding, taking in this drunken, muddled ramble, his hand jotting down key phrases while his eyes stayed focused on his patient.

 

“T-that’s why I didn’t say anything last time, doc. Guess I wanted to know– wanted to see if you understood that. Not sure if y-you really do or not, but you handled it well, so it counted for something in my mind. I guess.”

  
“I-if it led to you talking then I’m glad, Rick.”  
  


Silence.

 

“Aren’t you, I don’t know, supposed to tell me it’s wrong to play games or whatever?”

  
“Well, I mean, y-you’re right. I-it isn’t good to play games or to 'test’ people. But to tell you the truth, I’m not concerned about that right now. I’m just glad you came back and want to try.”

  
Morty was smiling, and it was so warm, so kind, that for a moment Rick almost thought it was genuine. He wanted to test the man further.

 

“I-I’ve been thinking of ways to prevent the failure of words, doc. Heh, y-you know, maybe some cool, sci-fi gadget or whatever, that lets people read your thoughts. But that wouldn't—that doesn’t stop words from spewing out, just opens up a new form of communication to misinterpret.”

 

Morty nodded, “Y-yes, I guess that’s true.”

  
Silence.

 

“H-have you thought of any other, uh, more realistic ways to express yourself?”

 

“L-like I said, can’t be done.”  
  


Silence.

 

“But y-you know, doc, I did think that–think of a permanent solution.” Rick’s words were slurring more as the hour passed and the alcohol settled deeper into his system. “T-thought about cutting out my tongue. That’d stop it. About—about did.”

  
“But that wouldn’t prevent miscommunication. S-so what would you _really_ accomplish by doing that, Rick?”

 

Silence.

 

A wicked grin spread across Rick’s lips, exposing his teeth.

 

“Well I guess when you  _really_  think about it, doc, not a goddamn thing.”


	3. Session III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, sorry it's been so long. Just....life and lack of inspiration got in the way. But I hope if anyone is still here, you enjoy this chapter.

“ _I can fill my space_

_fill my time_

_but nothing can fill this void in my heart_ ”

\- 4.48 Psychosis

 

* * *

 

Rick wasn't wearing the leather bracelet that day. Morty hadn't noticed until it was gone just how wide the band had been, how much skin it had covered.

 

Now he saw the scars, the shapes carved into flesh. Had Rick wanted him to see?

  
  
“N-now who's the silent one.”

 

As the teen spoke he scratched at the exposed wrist, obviously uncomfortable despite the cruel tease in his voice. He knew that Morty knew. It was now the elephant in the room.

 

“Sorry, Rick.”

  
  
Silence.

 

“I-I'm sorry, but can I ask what happened to your arm?”

 

Silence.

 

“W-what do ya think, doc? You're not, you're not fucking stupid.”

 

“I know. But I want to hear it from you, Rick.”

 

Silence.

 

“Fine. I-I fucking cut myself. Are you fucking-- are you fucking satisfied?”

 

Rick had come to their session drunk again, but unlike last time he didn't seem so brave. Despite the ever present bite in his voice he seemed almost shy.

 

“C-can I ask you why?”

  
  
“Why the fuck do you think?”

 

“I-I don't know, Rick. There are a lot of different reasons people cut themselves.”

 

Silence.

 

Silence.

 

“Y-ya know, M- _UUURP_ -Morty, a lot of people don't...don't fucking realize. They'll look right at your arm and wont see a damn thing. Ya know they have to see it, who—who could fucking _miss_ it. But they don't see it, or they pretend like they don't see it, and they wont, they can't, be bothered with it.”

 

Silence.

 

“Did you want me to see it, Rick?”

 

Silence.

 

“D-did you want me to see it?”

 

Silence.

 

“R-rick, why do you cut yourself?”

  
  
Silence. Rick smiled.

 

“Daaaaaaamn, doc. Y-you gotta stop passing all my tests.”


End file.
